Chapter Eleven
There was a madman in her head. A madman with a big hammer, continually bashing away at her skull. Neva groaned softly and rolled onto her back. Pain flared in the region of her rump and curled up her side.
The truck, she thought. Then she felt the caress of cotton sheets against her skin and realized she was no longer lying in the snow but in bed. Her bed, if the tang of citrus in the air was anything to go by.
She opened her eyes and looked toward the window. It was dark outside, and the storm no longer raged. Snow continued to drift past the glass, the flakes briefly glistening silver as the lamp near the window caught them with its light. She reached out for her watch, wincing slightly as her side protested the movement. It was six o'clock. Four hours had slipped by. Four hours she couldn't remember.
Frowning slightly, she eased upright. Duncan had been in her room, but not in her bed. The air carried his warm, woody scent, but it didn't linger on the sheets. Two cups sat on the bedside table. She picked one up, sniffing it lightly. Chocolate. She certainly couldn't remember drinking it.
Her last memory was of the blue truck swiping her and sending her sprawling. She frowned, trying to reach past the haze in her mind, sure something important had happened between that point and now. Vague memories of being stripped rolled through the fog in her mind, followed by the flush of remembered passion. Yet, they hadn't danced. Of that she was certain.
Neva? Her sister's voice winged into her mind, warm but concerned. You okay?
I think so. She climbed out of bed and realized she was completely na**d when the warm air caressed her skin as gently as a lover's sigh. She grabbed her robe and quickly put it on.
What happened last night? I tried contacting you, but you were off on another planet.
I'm not sure what happened. I got swiped by a truck coming home from Betise's and can't remember much after that. She hesitated at the top of the stairs. Though the hall was dark, light peeked out from under the kitchen door. If the delicious aroma beginning to drift upwards was anything to go by, Duncan was cooking dinner.
Savannah's sharp gasp echoed down the mental lines between them, and Neva winced.
Are you okay? Why aren't you in the hospital?
It barely touched me, and I didn't want to go to the emergency room. Not that she could actually remember saying that. Have you arranged twenty-four seven protection, like I asked?
Yes. And we pulled several hairs off that doctor's coat you found in the trash can. They match the hair we found at two of the murder scenes.
Black hair?
Black hair, Savannah confirmed softly.
Neva sighed. No wonder her sister was so convinced it was a Sinclair — they might not be able to lay sole claim to the silver coat, but they were the only pack in Ripple Creek with black hair. And while there were quite a few humans living here who also had black hair, none of them would get anywhere near the mansion during the phase of the full moon let alone be able to overpower a wolf.
Then the murderer was definitely coming after you. Maybe you were closer to something than you'd thought.
Maybe. Savannah's doubt echoed down the line between them. Tell me about the truck that hit you. I'll have Steve and Ronan look out for it.
Your deputies have more important things to do. Besides, the storm was a bitch, and the driver probably didn't even see me. Yet she remembered the sound of laughter and wondered if that was true.
He would have felt the bump as the truck hit you.
He didn't hit me that hard, so I doubt it. She hesitated. Have Mom and Dad been in to see you yet?
Yeah, and dad's furious. He didn't say anything, but I think he knows you were up at the mansion. I'd avoid him for the next couple of days and give him a chance to cool down.
That would take weeks, not days. She rubbed a hand across her eyes and turned tail, heading into the bathroom to grab some painkillers. After she'd taken them, she told her sister everything she'd learned over the last couple of days. It didn't take long, because she hadn't really learned that much.
I'll send Ronan over to Betise's place. I wish the damn fool had reported the attack immediately. We might have been able to pull some connecting evidence off her gown. She hesitated. If you're right about lovers being the targets, we'll have to convince the brothers to give us a list and arrange protection.
I suspect that's now being handled within the pack.
Probably. And just so you know, we've got a warrant to search the Sinclair mansion, and we'll be requesting hair samples from everyone who's there. You'd better make sure you stay away tonight and tomorrow.
I can tell you now it wasn't René behind the last attack, and it certainly wasn't Duncan.
I'm not saying it's one of Zeke's get.
No, she wasn't. But she wasn't really considering anyone else, either, and Neva had a suspicion they were all playing into the murderer's game-plan, whatever that plan was.